


MCU ficlet collection 2018

by DoreyG



Series: 2018 Ficlet Collections [6]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Flirting, Hook-Up, Impregnation, M/M, Propositions, Teasing, Walk Of Shame, Xeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: A collection of any MCU ficlets I write in 2018 that are under 1000 words.





	1. Alien Sex Eggs (Peter/Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has eggs in him, Tony tries to help.

Peter makes a low, broken noise when he slides in. And he knows that he should be disgusted, should be absolutely _hating_ himself right now, but the low kick of disgust in his stomach is almost entirely swamped by the lust that surges within him. Peter is _gorgeous_ beneath him, all smooth skin and ranginess and trembling need, and all he really wants is to take and take and _take_...

He grits his teeth, digs his fingers into the ground and tries to remind himself that this is just a _task_. He has to do this, or else the eggs will hatch and Peter will apparently die and goddamn does he _hate_ space, but he can't enjoy it one tiny bit. This is not good, this is bad, this is _wrong_. He can't ever admit that he's longed for this, that he's dreamed about it, that he's glanced at Peter swinging above him so many times and thought _what if_ -

He _can't_.

...And that resolution lasts right up until the point where Peter arches up beneath him, stutters out another broken noise and cries: "Mr Stark, _please_!"

After that, disgust doesn't seem like such a reasonable reaction.


	2. Headache (Everett Ross/M'Baku)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M'Baku has an interesting take on how to help Ross with his headache.

The only person close enough to notice him rubbing his forehead and wincing is M'Baku, and so he's not expecting any comments on it. He'll just be able to deal with the annoying pain, get somewhere private and dark, sleep it off...

"Headache?" M'Baku asks, in a surprisingly pleasant tone.

"Uh, yes." He winces a little, hurriedly removes his hand and shoves it down to awkwardly dangle by his side, "tension headache. I tend to get them when I'm a bit stressed, and literally everything about this situation has been incredibly stressful and so... Yeah, headache."

"Does all the talking help?" M'Baku asks, a faint smile on his lips. To his surprise, it's not especially mocking. Maybe miracles can happen.

"Not exactly," he says defensively, tearing his eyes forcibly away from where they've decided to linger on M'Baku's lips, "but, you see, it's another thing that tends to happen when I'm stressed. Like with the headache, two incredibly annoying things for the price of one."

"Hm, M'Baku says, and his faint smile grows to a great big tooth-baring grin, "let me know if you want help with either of those problems. I might have a few ways of fixing them, for a dumb American boy like you."

"...Such as?"

"I've been told that it's very hard to focus on words, or headaches for that matter, when being fucked by me," M'Baku says, quite casually, and also shrugs, quite casually, "I can't say, myself, but I'm sure it's worth a try."

His jaw drops open, he splutters inelegantly. He's dimly aware that he's quickly losing any small shreds of dignity he's managed to claw back, gawping at M'Baku like a fish.

"I mean, I'm also willing to fuck your mouth," M'Baku says, still a study in casualness, "if you want."

He closes said mouth with an audible click, swallows hard, stares for a long moment "...You know what? I just might."


	3. Wrecked (Mordo/Strange)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordo has _words_ to say about Strange's attitude to hook-ups.

"You can't leave my rooms looking like that."

Strange blinks at him, gives him a _somewhat_ \- by which he means, it redefines the very term - smug smile as he tugs his coat back on, "I've looked worse after hook-ups before."

The thing is, Strange looks wrecked. Absolutely and utterly _wrecked_. His hair is ruffled up into what can only be described as a bird's nest, his mouth is a shade of kiss-bruised red, there are far too obvious hickies already forming around his long neck and he even seems to be holding himself somewhat gingerly.

" _Seriously_?" He asks, instead of giving in to the totally irrational waver of jealousy in his stomach, "you rolled from the beds of former lovers looking like this, and they allowed you _out_?"

"Yes," Strange says, still looking smug. And even his voice has a scraped raw quality, a lingeringly raspy one that makes it utterly impossible to deny just how much noise he's been making, "nobody actually _cared_ , Karl. I was in New York, people see more scandalous things every single day."

"Well, here in Kamar-Taj it is different," he says, somewhat stiffly. And uses the distraction of Strange rolling his eyes to get a firm hold on the man's arm, "when you roll out of _my_ bed, it is different."

Strange stares at him for a long second, a curious light entering his eyes, "yet another new horizon you're going to teach me about?"

He smiles, perhaps a touch grimly. Uses his grip on Strange's arm to drag him firmly in the direction of the bathroom, "let's hope you're as apt a learner here as you are everywhere else."


	4. Showing Off (Strange/Wong)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange shows off, Wong is unimpressed.

He turns the staircase into a collar of spikes, and then wraps it around the demon boar's neck with a simple wave of his hand. The creature grunts, low and furious, and he simply smiles. Waves his hand again, and sends it sliding out the door with barely a moment of effort.

...He glances back, ready to receive applause, and finds Wong _smirking_ behind him.

"What?"

"Couldn't you have just knocked the beast out?" Wong asks, looking faintly amused instead of knee-meltingly impressed, "or, even more simply, just teleported it back to the dimension where it belongs with a snap of your fingers?"

"I- I mean, yeah. _Maybe_." He glares, finding himself unaccountably put out, "but-"

"Now the poor thing is trapped here," Wong muses, still watching him with that _annoying_ twitch of his lips, "with a collar around its neck, and only a sense of lingering humiliation to keep it warm."

"Okay, yeah. Again. _But_ -"

"And we've lost a staircase, and gained a demon pig that we're going to have to feed at least three times a day," Wong continues, with an overexaggerated sigh that makes him shift like some kind of guilty teenager, "it doesn't seem like this situation turned out well for anyone, really."

Learning his lesson, he avoids trying to justify himself this time. Simply stares at Wong somewhat resentfully, barely overcoming the urge to pout.

"...Stephen," Wong says, after several silent and sulky seconds have ticked by, "you really don't need to try to impress me, or prove yourself the most talented magician alive for my benefit. Even if you perform no showy tricks in a day, I'll still be willing to retire to your bed at the end of it."

He blinks a little, continues to stare at Wong mutely... And then smiles, shakes his head, "okay, but how many showy tricks do I need to perform to get you to start referring to it as _our_ bed?"

" _Stephen_." Wong sighs, but he can't help but notice that his amusement has faded to a smile that could almost be called fond, "perform a trick that'll keep out new houseguest fed until we can figure out what to do with it, and I'll maybe start considering it."


	5. Winter (Hank/Scott)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank is grumpy, Scott is used to it.

"Winter is my favourite time of the year."

"Of course it is," he grumbles, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

"I mean, why wouldn't it be?" Scott only continues, as _enthusiastic_ as ever. He's sure that something is going to knock the man off his sunshine perch one day, but it hasn't yet, "there are just so many things to love! The snow, the mince pies, the carolers, Christmas creeping ever closer..."

"Yes, why _wouldn't_ a sane person love all those things," he interrupts sarcastically. He can't help it, this kind of weather always brings out his even grumpier side. Makes his knees ache and his back twinge and his memories of all the years he's wasted rise to the surface, "I mean, the endless bitter cold. The unavoidable fruit cakes that nobody really likes. The fact that it never actually seems to get light at any point. The endless, sickening _cheeriness_ all around."

Scott stares at him, but it's not an annoyed stare or even a particularly sympathetic one. Instead a small smile seems to be tilting up the corner of his mouth, like he's actually _fond_ , "Hank."

"What?" He snaps, anticipating and dreading what's next in about equal measure.

"Would you like a cheery, festive hug?" Scott asks innocently, and actually has the temerity to _beam_ in response to his flat stare, "you know, to keep out the _bitter_ cold and distract you from the _ceaseless_ darkness?"

He glares for another second, and then gives a scornful snort and turns sharply away. There's no need to let Scott know about the sudden warmth rising in his chest, no need to let him see that he's fighting his own smile. No need at _all_.

"We can even get some Christmas cake afterwards!" Scott says, cheerfully to his back, and he has the sinking feeling that the man already knows _everything_.


End file.
